


Tradition

by Ashling



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling
Summary: The gang are hit by a flash of inspiration. Wayne disapproves.





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haywire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haywire/gifts).



"Wayne," said Katy.

"No," said Wayne.

"Wayne!" This time, it was Squirrelly Dan.

"No!" Wayne was getting agitated.

 _"Wayne..."_ Daryl, pulling out a long whine that sent them all straight back to the third grade, briefly.

"Absolutely not," Wayne said. "Don't fuck with tradition."

Crazy Jack's Animal Emporium had given them a long and entertaining day. They had seen many illegal sights. Zebras, for instance, which were very happy to take any carrots that the hicks offered them. A couple giraffes. Monkeys, one of which had spat in Squirrelly Dan's hair. (Squirrelly Dan had blinked and spluttered for all of ten seconds before Katy handed him a Drumstick all cold from the cooler and he got over it.)

Now Crazy Jack himself, or a cardboard cutout of him, was giving them a truly tempting proposition. Animal rentals for special events. Summer deal, 15% off.

And Katy was nothing if not stubborn. "But can you imagine?" she said. "A Zebracorn." 

"It's not my imagination's the problem," Wayne said shortly. "Don't fuck with tradition."

"A giraffecorn," offered Squirrelly Dan.

"How are you gonna get the cardboard on its head for the horn? Are you gonna climb a ladder now, Squirrelly Dan? You?"

"I'll climb the ladder," put in Katy.

"Don't fuck with tradition," said Wayne, again. He was clearly displeased that he had to repeat himself, and just shy of making his displeasure known in a Loud Voice.

But Daryl, as always, wasn't quite on the ball, because his imagination had already been captured by a third option. "Wayne!" He pointed. 

Everyone's head turned to look across the east field at one lone figure in the far corner. 

"Ostrichcorn," Daryl said reverently.

"Oh," said Squirrelly Dan, making the kind of face he'd usually reserve for mistaking vinegar for vodka. (An easy mistake to make, after certain Christmas traditions.)

"Oh, no," said Katy, using the voice that she'd usually reserve for the days she saw out-of-town missionaries walking into the Ag Hall with a gleam in their eye.

"Daryl," said Wayne, "Has it not occurred to you that Letterkenny might be the last place on earth an ostrich should be?"

"I don't see why not," said Daryl, still looking obliviously out at the bird, which was prancing a bit foolishly along the far fence. "An' it's _my_ birthday party."

 _"Daryl,"_  said Katy.

"What?"

"Do you imagine—" Wayne began, in the voice of deep irony and condescension that he usually reserved for the very rare occasions that he met degens from upcountry and was not allowed to hit them in the face.

But Squirrelly Dan crashed through, in too much of a hurry to wait for wit. "Ginger!" he bellowed. "And Boots!"

"...Oh," Daryl said.

"Allegedly," Squirrelly Dan added. Just to be safe.

For a while, there was just the sound of a few monkeys amiably chattering at each other in the background.

"It's my birthday party," Daryl said, somewhat wistfully.

"Don't fuck with tradition," Wayne said, but he said it like a consolation.


End file.
